Cæ raised an eyebrow as he studied her.
Something had changed in her.
Her eyes were lifeless.
Her smile was… superficial.
His eyes sharpened as he noticed a red bruise on her face. "You… are you okay?"
"...Of course."
"…Alright." Cæ furrowed his eyebrows. "Yes, you can spend time with me. But for now, we have classes."
Her expression grew strangely relieved before a superficial, tired smile appeared on her face. "Then we will have to save it for another time."
She quickly scurried away.
"…T-That was a little strange," Seliphaz commented with a concerned expression.
"…Yeah." Cæ narrowed his eyes, shaking his head lightly with a soft sigh. "Regardless, you were saying?"
"A-Ah, yes. Out of the three prototypes, the most promising is actually the HS-1. The hybrid solution is actually the most cost-effective method out of all three prototypical solutions while also satisfying all constraints and conditions," she explained patiently. "Our experiments show that at all scales of production, the HS-1 is four percent cheaper than the ES-1 and two percent cheaper than the AS-1."
Neither of those percentages might strike one particularly high to the layman, but Cæ knew better.
"This is game-changing," he realized. "It increases our low profits and allows us to reduce prices should the need arise. Perhaps we don't need to operate with razor-thin margins after all."
In business, the difference of single percentages could mean the difference between wild success and complete failure. Because even though the percentage would reflect a small amount of money per sale, the amount would balloon with each sale. Over hundreds, thousands, and potentially even more, they would garner immense additional revenue.
"I am curious though." Cæ raised an eyebrow. "I would have expected that either the alchemical solution or the engineering solution would have been the most optimal. It's interesting that the hybrid solution is actually the most cost-effective solution."
"That's because it's a combination of what is the most cost-effective solution for each independent solution," she explained helpfully. "For example, if you study these blueprints, you'll see that we developed an alchemical solution for the ventilation and temperature regulation systems. However, for security and structural integrity, the most optimal solution was an engineering solution."
Cæ nodded with a thoughtful expression. "That's truly impressive, I must say. The prototype has yet to be completed, but I must admit that I am very excited for the end product."
She nodded enthusiastically, shifting a tuft of her blue hair. "I can't wait to show all of you what the completed product looks like!"
The two of them chatted some more about the business before parting ways.
Classes were soon to begin.
And yet, even as Cæ was present in classes, his thoughts couldn't help but wonder as he thought about the progress of the business development. The developments were exciting, but they also put pressure on him to ensure that he completed the Apprentice Program within the next few months.
He didn't want to have to be the one leader who was too busy with other matters while his entire team and company depended on him for his leadership. And even though he knew that he ought to use this time to focus on his magicademics so that he would be there for the company when it was time, he still couldn't help but dream about what the final product would look like and how the eventual sales would go.
Much to the chagrin of his professors.
"Mr. Cæ."
The stern voice of an older man broke him out of his reverie.
Cæ found himself sitting in a classroom surrounded by students who turned to peer at him with a hint of puzzled curiosity. Kelton, Sorenon, and Natana gazed at him with alarmed eyes, shifting their gazes back and forth between Cæ and the professor.
"Professor Kuznets." Cæ's tone was apologetic. "I'm sorry for the—"
"For sleeping in my class, young man?" the professor stroked his long flowing white beard. "Do you think that magical etymology is utterly unworthy of your attention?"
Actually, he did.
The Apprentice Program didn't offer him any free space for electives, forcing him to take a bunch of foundational theories surrounding magic, including highly boring topics like magical etymology.
"Tell me, Mr. Cæ," the professor gazed at him with disapproving eyes. "What is the origin of the prefix of 'magi' in our linguistic norms? Why is it that we still add 'magi' before everything? Do you have any idea at all for you to be dreaming away in my classes?"
The air grew serious as it became evident to all the students that the teacher was simply trying to test Cæ with the intention of scolding him when he got it wrong.
Unfortunately, he chose the wrong student.
"Etymologically, the prefix 'magi' emerges from magic which, in Ancient Kruschian, simply translated to 'supernatural,'" Cæ began with a matter-of-factly. "As a prefix, its origin came about after the dawn of the magindustrial revolution with the creation of industry and the ability to mass produce magical goods and services. Specifically, the invention of magical equivalents of non-magical goods and services. The 'magi' prefix was initially adopted by suppliers to distinguish between the magical and non-magical equivalents of the same goods and services in the market for customer convenience. However, very soon, it wormed its way into common parlance and linguistic norms across the entire world cross-culturally and cross-linguistically."
Cæ paused for a moment before continuing. "From then on, it has been recognized in dictionaries around the world. Even if the prevalence of magical goods and services far exceeds that of non-magical goods and services in most sectors, we still use the prefix 'magi,' although it has waned in its imperative need. Traditions, especially linguistic traditions, do not wane easily. And in particular, this prefix still has plenty of utility."
Professor Kuznet stared at Cæ with a surprised expression.
He truly had expected that Cæ would fail to have any answer to this question.
As an experienced professor, he had run into countless freshman apprentices who slept during his class because of how boring magical etymology was. He would often test them with questions and penalize them when they failed to answer the question.
However, Cæ's answer was perfectly accurate, even if imprecise.
"Hm, not bad," Professor Kuznet's tone was unfriendly. "However, you made one crucial mistake."
The professor narrowed his eyes. "This prefix does not have any utility today. Your textbooks detail the arguments made by various world-renowned linguists. There is no longer a need to add cumbersome prefixes like magi to everything like 'magi-this' and 'magi-that.' Not anymore!"
Cæ's gray grew a tad bit more intense. "…I beg to differ. I don't doubt the research done by the experts in their fields regarding the overwhelming prevalence of magic in modern civilization. However…"
Cæ's gaze sharpened, "…what of all the people who don't live in a modern civilization?"
The professor stiffened.
"What about the billions of people who live in slums disconnected partially or entirely from the magigrid?" Cæ's tone grew a little intense even as his voice remained composed. "What about all the people who grew up living lives that weren't filled with an abundance of magical artifacts and enchanted items? For them, being surrounded by 'magi-'equivalents of normal goods and services isn't their reality."
The professor coughed uncomfortably. "Of course, this entire topic applies only to modern civilization. I, er, was not including—"
"Half the human population?"
"T-That's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean?"
"…Just sit down already; we still have a class to study!"
Professor Kuznets scurried back to the front of the class, hurriedly continuing on with his lecture while Cæ took his seat, not entirely pleased by what had happened.
Of course, the discussion of the 'magi' prefix was not the point. Cæ didn't give a single damn about whether people continued with the prefix or started discarding it. What he didn't like was the constant exclusion of the experiences of countless people around the world who grew up in environments outside of modernized magical technology.
In his experience, the world preferred to pretend that these people didn't exist.
They would talk about how far the world had come with a quality of life and how developed the world was, all the while the underlying implicit caveat was that these statements were excluding nearly half the world that lived in destitute poverty.
It happened time and time again.
In order to feel better about themselves or to cope by pretending that their interaction with the world was something that they could project upon civilization as a whole.
He had run into this many times, learning the hard way that people grew uncomfortable when the reality of the horrors that much of the world lived in was described too accurately, shattering the illusion that they lived in.
He was just disappointed to find out that this pattern appeared to remain true even for the professors of the Elendir Institute of Magic of all places.
And yet, the topic reminded him of his developing business. In the slums, the prefix of 'magi' may have been a relevant tool since it wasn't a given that most goods and services weren't magical. Far from it.
'Does that mean I will have to call my product a 'magi-micro-housing unit?'
His expression crumpled with cringe at the label for the product that Seliphaz was developing.
'Nonono…I can't name it that.' He shook his head lightly. 'Besides, it isn't even technically magical.'
Magical substances were technically mana-rich substances and were not counted as magic. There were no enchants that caused magical effects by virtue of the magic cast by the virtue of the creator.
Thus, his product would theoretically be considered non-magical. Or at least non-magical as far as active magic was concerned. It was not non-magical as far as the means of development and the means of production were concerned.
'Ah well, it doesn't matter.'
At the end of the day, the only thing that mattered was product utility and sales. The label of the product was entirely irrelevant as far as he was concerned.
He shook his head as his attention returned to the present.
'Focus.'
He didn't have as much time to get distracted.
With each passing day, Seliphaz increasingly fleshed out the prototypes in school as she borrowed the excellent labs of the Elendir Institute of Magic, eager to get the job done before she graduated from the magicademy so that they wouldn't have endured a higher cost of research and development by hiring labs and other facilities to facilitate high-quality development.
And with each day she got closer to completing her project, Cæ too aggressively made strides in taking the final steps in completing his Apprentice Program.
Nine months had passed since the academic year started.
In those nine years, he hadn't been able to complete the program even if he wanted to.
One year was the bare minimum.
By the end of the year, he would opt to choose how many ever of the mandatory tests and exams he needed to take in order to pass the program.
All in one go.
Even for him, it was a tall task.
Not only would he need to nail theory, but he would also need to pass all the practicals when it came to magic and magic-related practical exams.
It was a daunting challenge that very few Apprentice Students had the courage to go for.
And even fewer succeeded.
Cæ was one of them.
And just like that, three months passed.
The time had arrived.
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